


O.W.D.

by spellcastersjudgement



Series: The Pornographic Adventures of Bastion Misawa [6]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alcohol, Blindfolds, Bondage, Boot Worship, Butt Plugs, Cigarettes, Cock Rings, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Don't Try This At Home, F/M, Femdom, Hardcore, Heavy BDSM, Human Ashtray, Masochism, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Paddling, Pegging, Porn Watching, Public Masturbation, St. Andrew's Cross, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellcastersjudgement/pseuds/spellcastersjudgement
Summary: Bastion remembered Aster saying something about whipping him last night, how Alexis had trained him not to come. He didn’t quite understand it then, but now as he sat on the bathroom floor with his fingers in his mouth everything clicked into place. Zane couldn’t get off without pain, and from the anger in Alexis’s voice, she was going to give it to him.“I’m going to remind you who hurts you the way you like it.” Alexis smiled, not genuine and bubbly like Jaden, but menacingly, aroused by thought of inflicting pain.





	O.W.D.

**Author's Note:**

> okay!! so!! this was supposed to turn out much much differently, but zane...zane-pain truesdale grabbed me by my own nip rings, looked me square in the eye and said 'hurt me bitch' 
> 
> so here we are 
> 
> on the low most of these kinks arent mine but since zane is canonically a painslut i didn't feel bad for wrecking his shit in this one 
> 
> thanks to PeepMeep for beta-ing!!!

Bastion should not have watched a gangbang last night. 

“A toast!” Tanya held up her drink. “To us—first place in each of our divisions!” 

“Hey, hold up your drink, pretty boy,” Espada ordered. 

“Oh, um,” Bastion looked down at his drink, then back to her. “I didn’t—”

“You’re my good luck charm, hon. Toast with us!” Tanya smiled at him. 

Doing as he was told, he held up his drink, four glasses coming together, the sound of clinking glass drowned out by the noise of the bar. It was nearly midnight, and they had just begun their bar crawl. When Tanya had stated the competition was going to last all day, he didn’t think she’d meant it literally, but it was early evening before the awards were given. Tanya had competed first, joining him in the audience afterwards, still in that incredibly tight, form fitting, muscle-accentuating—ahem. To be frank, he was burning with a mix of awe at her physique that put his to shame (and he liked to think he was muscular) and desire to open his mouth and beg for her to absolutely wreck him with the very muscles he’d been admiring. 

He did not do that. He wanted to, but he didn’t. 

“Can you believe Georgia got kicked out for doping?” Paladino was leaning across the table, waving her shot glass around, surprisingly a lightweight considering her size. “Her girlfriend literally just got in trouble for that! You’d think she’d know better,” 

“You should be glad,” Espada cast a sideways glance, faint smirk on her face. “She’d totally beat you,” 

“Fuck you, I would’ve won anyway,” 

Bastion tried to listen to their conversation, maybe even contribute so he didn’t just sit there awkwardly. He half wished they would start talking in Portuguese again so he could conveniently abstain from social interaction. He then remembered he had immediately thought of the three women having their way with him while speaking in Portuguese the first time he’d heard them talk. 

He should not have watched that gangbang. He should not have watched it. Now he was corrupted. They could probably smell the desire emanating from him. Paladino and Espada had already jumped on the nickname train, adding to Tanya’s ‘hon’ and ‘sugar.’ He was now ‘pretty boy’ and ‘sweetheart,’ leaving Bastion unconvinced that they knew his name but enjoying the pet names too much to think twice about it. 

“Is Cam coming, Tanya?” 

Tanya was busy flagging down their waitress, but looked back over her shoulder for a moment to answer. “She’s working tonight.” She turned to the waitress. “Two shots of tequila each, whatever the house is, thanks.” Back to the table. “Though I’m sure we could go see her.” 

“Vampires bother you, sweetheart?” Paladino sucked down the last of her drink and bumped her elbow against him. 

“Perhaps if they were real, yes,” Bastion answered. 

“Camula makes it look convincing,” Espada reached across the table for two of the tequila shots that had just arrived. “She studied theatre or something at college and used that to make her bar look like Dracula’s sex dungeon,” 

“She studied art,” Tanya handed Bastion his shots. 

“Yeah, yeah one of those. Anyway, she owns a bar, and it’s practically year-round Halloween. All the alcohol is craft—and not ‘craft’ like Leinenkugel’s or Bulleit, actual craft—and have creepy names. People dress up—fake blood, corsets, fake teeth—hey, come to think of it, we’ve never dressed up to go there,” 

“Do you really want to squeeze into a corset?’ Tanya knocked back her shot, squeezing the lime into her mouth after. “Cam would love that,” 

“Bastion could wear the corset,” Espada laughed. “Isn’t that right pretty boy?” 

At the suggestion Bastion almost knocked his tequila off of the table, choking on the alcohol currently in his mouth. Tanya thumped her hand on his back, telling her friends to stop being so crass as they laughed. Finally able to breathe once again, Bastion’s heart continued beating rapidly for a different reason. A corset. It’d been a joke, of course, yet he couldn’t help but imagine it—no, not here. Later he could think about it in more detail, because the fleeting thought of Tanya cinching him into a corset was enough to make him need more alcohol. If he got whisky dick he couldn’t get hard thinking about playing dress up. 

“Hey,” Espada looked up from her phone. “Cam’s place is only a couple blocks from here, and I just texted her to let her know we’re coming. Let’s pay up and head over,” 

As the exited the bar, Bastion was even more glad to be with three muscular women that were both taller and wider than him. They cleared a path through the crowd, allowing him to avoid being utterly crushed by the sheer volume of people in the bar. Certainly the place was over capacity. Then again, it could just be that he was overwhelmed since it had been a long time since he’d been down to the Shaw on a Saturday night. Usually he’d be in bed by now. 

Paladino and Espada joined hands, walking in front of him, Tanya falling in step next to him, the four of them attempting to dodge the people lining up to get into bars, cigarette smoke turning the clear night foggy, laughing and loud conversation accompanying them as they walked. 

“You’ll love Camula,” Tanya’s arm found a place on his shoulder, pulling him close so she could be heard over the crowd. “She was my roommate in college. We both lived in the international dorm,” 

“Oh, where’s she from?” 

“Romania. I used to tease her about it since she liked vampires so much,” Tanya laughed. “Not just vampires—her minor was Medieval History and her master’s thesis was something about the use of folk tales and social control in art. She can tell you much more about it than I can—I studied mechanical engineering, so I just listened to her talk most of the time,” 

“And how did she come to owning a bar?” Bastion asked. He made a mental note to ask Camula about her master’s thesis. 

“Art doesn’t pay, baby,” Tanya answered, voice tinged with melancholy. “When Cam and I were together we used to go to the museums and she’d tell me everything and more about whatever was on the wall. She painted the interior of Infernalvania, all the murals and whatever, and she takes commissions,” 

“My roommate studied anthropology.” Bastion dodged a group of men that had apparently forgotten that they didn’t own the sidewalk. “He now works as an interior designer. Undergraduate degrees don’t mean much, do they?” 

“Hey, Cam just texted me,” Espada looked over her shoulder. “She says to come to the back so we don’t have to wait in line.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Paladino shouted emphatically, stumbling a bit on her next step, her girlfriend catching her by the upper arm to steady her. “Look at that line, guys.” She pointed to the people waiting, backs against a brick building that had been artfully designed to look like a castle. “Cam’s the best! I hope she’s behind the bar tonight instead of holed up in the back office,” 

The four of them entered the narrow alley between Infernalvania and the adjacent bar, circling around to the back. Bastion could hear the music and smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke, brushing shoulders with others attempting to squeeze through. Espada turned the corner, bumping into a staggering, drunk person, and Bastion couldn’t help but whisper “excuse me” as he passed. 

“My darlings,” the back door slammed, followed by the sound of heels clicking on the cobblestone street. “It is so good to see you, it’s been what? Since Tuesday?” 

“Camula, is that a new dress?” Espada reached her hand out to the woman, bringing their hands above her head, spinning her around like they were dancing, her deep purple dress shimmering in the streetlights. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything but red,” 

“I wanted to branch out, my dear.” Camula kissed Paladino on the cheek. “Ah, Tanya, my love! You’ve brought me your boy, I see—nice to meet you, darling,” 

Bastion, knowing Tanya had to have felt him tense under her arm, tried to suppress the rush of excitement at being referred to as Tanya’s “boy.” As Camula approached him, her waist-length, green-dyed hair swishing with her gait, he also had to suppress his mind wandering back to his previous fantasies about the women gangbanging him. 

Maybe he should leave. He was going to be crushed under the weight of his own fantasies, probably. Cause of death would be hitting his head on the wall after passing out from overheating. He would die without ever having cleared his search history. 

He should probably do that, come to think of it. It wasn’t like anyone would be snooping but he shouldn’t take chances. 

“Come in—I’m bartending tonight, so I’ll be able to see you, unlike last time.” Camula opened the door for them, gesturing them inside. “Pesky tax forms.” 

Bastion was the last to enter, giving Camula a small smile instead of a proper greeting because he was afraid that his voice would not cooperate. She smiled back, fangs glinting out from under her vibrant red lipstick, and Bastion—well Bastion had no explanation other than playing Twilight drinking games in college with the girls from his biology class to explain why he found it arousing. He had obviously been conditioned by these subpar movies to find the thought of fangs digging into his neck an erotic act. 

Bastion followed the bodybuilders through the hallway, the music growing louder. It wasn’t typical music for a bar. For one, it didn’t give him a headache from the volume or have vocals that had been so modified that they sounded closer to the screams of a banshee than singing. They passed the bathrooms and another door, which Bastion assumed led to behind the bar as Camula disappeared through it with a flourish of green hair and shimmery fabric. 

“Wow.” Bastion couldn’t help but be in awe of the vaulted ceilings, covered with murals depicting all manner of creatures, their expressive faces illuminated by the crystal chandelier. Tanya had mentioned that Camula had painted everything, and Bastion was envious of her talent—surely she could have made a living in the arts if she wanted. 

“Come on, hon. Last call isn’t for another two hours, so let’s shut this place down.” Tanya laid her hand on his shoulder. “This place is more your speed, I think—Cam is an old soul like you. It’s my type, I think.” 

The last bit of her statement was accompanied by a laugh, the sound blending in with the rich melody coming from—a string quartet. Tanya was right, this was most definitely closer to what he envisioned for a night out. Not like a more traditional bar wouldn’t be enjoyable—here he mused how he was referring to house music and flashing lights as traditional—but he would be mistaken if he said instrumental music and clinking glasses wasn’t preferable. 

When Tanya and Bastion joined the other two at the bar, Camula was making drinks, the liquid a vibrant red, the crystal of the glasses glinting in the bar lights. Bastion sat down between Tanya and Espada, glancing around for some type of drink menu, but there was none in sight. 

Tanya seemed to sense his confusion. “You don’t order here—the bartenders make you something you’ll love.” 

“Oh.” Bastion sat back in his chair, watching as Camula pushed two identical drinks toward Paladino and Espada. They clinked their glasses together before downing the shots. “How do they know?” 

“Sixth sense magic,” Tanya smiled, laughing the slightest bit. She leaned her elbow against the bar and watched Camula pour Scotch into a snifter and push it toward her. “Or, have prior knowledge from being an ex-girlfriend.” 

“Oh, come on darling,” Camula scoffed. “That was several years ago—am I not worthy of the title of ‘friend’ yet?” 

“You’re cute when you’re mad at me,” Tanya said, taking a sip of her drink. “I think you bared your fangs at me just now,” 

Camula pulled back her lips and made a hissing sound, shortly dissolving into laughter afterward, elbow almost knocking a glass over as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “If that had broken I’d be holding you personally responsible, Tanya.” 

“I’d charm my way out of it.” 

The bartender rolled her eyes before turning around, bending over to reach into one of the refrigerators under the counter, pulling out a bottle of dark liquor, label slapped on the side of it, words scribbled in what Bastion had to assume was Romanian denoting its contents. Another bartender, also with fangs digging into her bottom lip, handed Camula a cocktail shaker, who took it from her without so much as looking up from where she was putting a tall, skinny glass on the counter. As Camula and the other woman spoke to each other, Bastion had to conclude that he had somehow linked the language center of his mind with the part that concerned sexual gratification. First listening to Portuguese had him wanting to roll over and beg, now as the bartenders spoke to each other in Romanian he wanted to bare his neck and—

Shit. 

Bastion thought back to when he’d watched Cosmos with Dmitri. The dulcet tones of Neil DeGrasse Tyson explaining how black holes could destroy a human body in a matter of seconds had been cause for discussion about the inevitable heat-death of the universe then. Now he so desperately wanted a black hole to appear beneath his seat and disintegrate every bit of sordid flesh. 

“Bastion.” Camula set the drink down in front of him, and if Bastion were in his right mind he would have admired how nicely it was presented. “Elena calls this one a ‘Midnight Shadow’—very dramatic for a drink that is so sweet, but she is very dramatic.” 

His voice didn’t work—he was thinking about the way she’d said his name, her prominent accent making his mind hazier than any alcohol. Nodding his thanks, Bastion mutely toasted with Tanya, not even bothering to savor the taste of Camula’s (or Elena’s, perhaps since she’d named it) creation before he sucked down half of it. 

Whisky dick was never a good thing, but as Bastion’s erection had no intentions of letting him live his life in peace he prayed for impotence. When Espada had made the comment about him in the corset earlier he thought that would be the occasion for an erection—the image was enticing and he had to fight the urge to squirm in his seat even now—but not from—god dammit who got hard from thinking about women dominating him while speaking Romance languages?

He did. He, Bastion Frederick Misawa, got hard from thinking about women dominating him while speaking Romance languages. Deviant. 

Referring to himself by his full name did not shame his penis into softening. The only solution was to forcibly induce the Whisky Dick. The first step—alcohol poisoning. 

Not that drastic, he reeled himself back in, but he needed to be able to feel his soul separating from his body just enough to render his dick useless. Bastion was certain he was one of the only men that had ever drank alcohol with the intention of not using the substance to get laid, but his second public erection had not been any less embarrassing than the first. 

“Sugar, that’s a drink, not a shot.” Tanya, amused, took a sip of her drink, watching him tilt the rest of the Midnight Whatever back down his throat. 

“Ah, um, yes,” Bastion had somewhat regained control of his voice. “It’s—I suppose I was hoping for a shot.” 

“Hey, Camula,” Tanya called, raising her voice the slightest bit above the music. Camula looked over, green hair swishing as she turned her head, a few strands sticking to her glossy lips. “Bastion wants to do some shots.” 

“You didn’t like it, pretty boy?” Espada asked. 

“No, no—I did, it was delicious.” Bastion blushed from the nickname and from the disgruntled look on Camula’s face as she approached them. “Camula, I’m—” 

“You want to do shots, darling?” Camula took the empty glasses in front of them, placing them in the sink behind her. “I’m going to put you on your ass—will teach you to question what I make for you.” 

“Hey, hey—why are you making so many?” Tanya questioned as she lined up six shot glasses and began filling them to the brim with vodka so viscous Bastion knew he would never be able to afford it. 

“Your boy, I made him a sweet drink because you call him ‘sugar.’ Sometimes I do not think he has a name.” Camula set the bottle down and pushed three shot glasses toward Bastion and three toward Tanya. “He does not like it, apparently. Now I want to see how he holds his liquor.” 

“Ooh, you’re in trouble now,” Espada laughed as Bastion blanched. “Can we get some too, Cam?”

Bastion looked down at the shots in front of him. On the upside—the downside accidentally pissing off the bartender—this would certainly rid him of his problem. He did not have fond memories of shots, the most recent time he’d downed this amount of vodka was the night he’d graduated from college. He’d thrown up in his graduation cap. From there on out he’d decided to stick to mixed drinks. 

“I don’t like vodka, you know.” Tanya picked up a shot glass between two fingers, eyeing it with suspicion. “For you though—I want to see what Bastion Misawa looks like sideways.” 

Bastion did not allow himself to think of the double entendre. 

“Okay, we’re going to go down-up-down,” Tanya said. He picked up his own glass, bringing it down against the bar, picking it back up to knock against hers, back down, finally tossing it back, the alcohol burning his throat. To his credit he didn’t choke, but his eyes did water, demonstrating his inexperience. “Let’s get these down and over with.” 

Two shots later and Bastion’s thoughts were starting to feel like they were wrapped in cotton, his vision blurring the slightest bit. His ‘problem’ was still raging, but he was certain that in a few moments, when the effects of the alcohol became truly apparent it would be smooth sailing. 

“I’m not finished with you yet.” 

Three more shots were put in front of him with more force than necessary, and he jumped the slightest bit. Camula was evidently still annoyed with him, and the severity of her gaze condemned his protests—he did not need to vomit tonight—confined to the small voice in the back of his head. It did not escape his notice that Tanya had received another glass of Scotch. Coupled with the fact that Camula was staring at him, expectant, Bastion knew that she was going to make good on her earlier statement to put him on his ass. She was going to punish him. 

Six shots of vodka, two shots of tequila, and two mixed drinks into the evening, and Bastion’s erection could not be quelled. He was being punished, and Bastion should have had the decency to actually feel bad for offending a woman he’d just met. Instead he had to clamp down the impulse to accidentally-on-purpose knock one of the shot glasses onto the floor to give Camula another reason to punish him.

“Good boy.” satisfied with the six empty glasses in front of him, Camula mercifully did not pour him any more shots. Instead she made another mixed drink, this one bright purple and rimmed with sugar, muddled blackberries floating amongst the ice cubes. “You complain about this one and I will make you finish the bottle.” 

“Don’t test her,” Tanya said. “I’ll hold your hair back.” 

“The hair gel would hold it back,” Bastion responded, stirring the drink with the small black straw. He felt loose, leaning his elbow against the bar, knuckles digging in to his overheated cheek as six shots caught up to him, his sobriety depleting exponentially. He saw, rather than felt, his hand move into his hair, the stiffness of the gel crunching under his fingers. “I—I need to, um. I need to buy more.” 

The alcohol had slowed the connection between his thoughts and his mouth, but not between his cock and his body. Afraid that he’d lost the coordination in his arms to successfully pick up the drink, Bastion leaned down and sucked the cocktail straw into his mouth. A blackberry seed shot up the straw and into the back of his throat, and he coughed, choking on the drink, a few drops landing onto his jeans, staining the light wash purple. 

“No choking, not on the day I won.” Tanya’s hand came down on his back, gently thumping against him until his coughing subsided. 

“There was,” Bastion cleared his throat, leaning his hand on his palm and looking over, trying to force himself to focus on the bright teal eyes that he wished he could wax poetic about, but alas, he had come dangerously close to failing the required English classes in college (by failed he meant a ninety-four, which was too close for comfort). “The fruit they, uh…” 

He trailed off, absentmindedly thinking about how this was the second erection he’d gotten in front of Tanya. The rest of his sentence was floating in front of him, but he couldn’t grab it, like sand falling through his fingers or clouds on a time-lapse video. 

Tanya was cute. Maybe he should just—he could just lean over and kiss her. Just plant one—on her cheek, because he would taste like alcohol and that was not how he wanted his first kiss to go. Well, his first real kiss. He wasn’t about to consider a game of truth or dare in high school as his first kiss, especially with how the girl had looked like she would rather eat spiders. 

Bastion remembered her name. He should call her, give her a piece of his mind. Was he really that unpleasant? Did she have to be so flagrantly disgusted with him? 

Tanya liked him, though, and that made him happy, a drunk grin creeping onto his face as he actually picked up the drink this time. 

“What was that you were saying, hon?” Tanya took the drink from him, bringing it to her own lips. 

They had kissed. Kinda. An indirect, partial kiss. Bastion’s cock and heart throbbed at the thought of kissing this woman, yet even in his inebriated state he couldn’t work up the courage. 

He needed to get rid of this erection. 

“It’s good, Bas.” Tanya put the drink down between them. Bastion, though not minding the nickname, longed for one of the others since “Bas” was pedestrian. All his friends called him that. Only she called him “sugar.” “Try mine.” 

The bit of Scotch left in the snifter was room-temperature and Bastion already knew he was not going to enjoy any bit of it. 

“That’s disgusting.” He had barely touched the amber liquid to his lips before he was handing it back to Tanya, the words out of his mouth before he realized he shouldn’t disparage her drink choices. 

“You’re so cute.” Tanya downed the rest of the whisky. “You’d like it if it was cold, I bet.” 

“Tanya, it tastes like backwash.” 

“You’re supposed to drink it like this, baby—oh don’t look at me like that, it’s true!” 

His shocked facial expression was not in response to the information that Scotch was best served tepid. Baby—that was his new favorite. He would’ve purred if he’d been able to. 

Bathroom. He needed to go to the bathroom. Operation Whisky Dick was a colossal failure. 

“Um, I’m gonna go to the restroom.” Bastion tried to pull the hem of his shirt down past his crotch in an effort to mitigate embarrassment. 

Before Tanya could say anything he was out of his seat, rounding the corner, pushing in to the bathroom and closing the stall door behind him. It seemed inordinately heavy, the dark wood much too fancy for a bar bathroom. There wasn’t even a glory hole, the hallmark of the Bar Bathroom Experience, not like he would use it, of course. 

The door didn’t stop three-quarters of the way down like it did in most stalls; it continued until it brushed the floor, leaving not even enough room to see his shoes if someone got the bright idea to lay on the floor and check if anyone was in there. Convenient. Very convenient for his little—or well above average if he was being honest—problem. It wasn’t going to go away, it was time to take care of it. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he gasped at the sensation along his cock, stuffing two fingers in his mouth and biting down to kill the moans that threatened to bubble up. Drawing the device out of his pocket, he felt something hook around his finger, recognizing the cord of his headphones—when had those gotten in there? He must have forgotten them when he wore these pants last. 

The notification was just an email, not worthy of his attention, but now that he had his cell phone in one hand and his headphones dangling off of his fingers, his alcohol-addled mind giving him ideas that he would never follow through on if he weren’t blasted. Leaning back against the wall, he unlocked the phone and opened the web browser, heading straight for Elemental Angel Productions. 

The mobile website gave him a bit of trouble at first, the buttons in different places than he was used to, his uncoordinated fingers accidentally clicking the wrong ones several times before he finally forced himself steady long enough to navigate to the schedule. After midnight on a Saturday and he’d unfortunately missed Chazz, Jesse, and Jaden’s performances. Syrus wasn’t coming on until almost three—oh, there was one more name. Zane. Zane was performing in—now, he was performing now. 

Shoving in the headphones and placing them in his ears, he found his way over to Zane’s page, fleeting thoughts of how he was about to jerk off in a public place ignored in favor of impending sexual gratification. The countdown had just hit ten seconds, and Bastion held the phone steady with two hands, his elbows tucked against his side to keep the screen from shaking. 

Forgetting he was in a public place, Bastion settled in to watch Zane’s performance as the countdown hit zero. His cock strained against his pants, desperate for release. 

“Good morning everyone,” a woman’s voice said. “It’s morning here on the East Coast, so I don’t want to see any shit in the comments correcting me on the time.” 

_miss alexis youre no fun_

_if we correct u will u punish us_

Alexis. Bastion had seen her picture on the homepage of EA and her brief appearance in Chazz and Jaden’s show, but now he had the privilege of seeing her in action. She was a dominant, and from the picture on her individual page he expected tight leather and all-black, however he had to admit he liked the powder-blue she was wearing much better. Her dress, strapless, lacy, and ending mid-thigh, accentuated her curves, the knee-high boots with stockings peeking out over the edge made her seem taller, elongating her legs and giving the impression she would step on someone if they so much as breathed improperly. She inspected her nails, picking at the French tips, looking bored, adjusting her fingerless gloves, neck expanding against the sapphire-encrusted choker with every breath, golden hair cascading from a braid slung over her shoulder. Zane was not in frame, presumably behind the door she was leaning against—he couldn’t wait to see inside. 

“I won’t punish you,” she said, finally deigning to look at the camera, a sharp look in her golden-brown eyes. Bastion flinched at the intensity. “Zaney’s in there.” She knocked her knuckles against the door. “He’s got some explaining to do. As you know, we had a special last night.” 

Bastion was well aware. It had been giving him hell all day. 

“Zane wasn’t supposed to be in it. He decided to jump in at the last minute, not asking me beforehand,” her voice was calm, but her eyes belied her. “That idiot, of course I would have let him—Aster was there to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t overstep. Of course, Aster also likes seeing Zane punished so I’m not sure he would’ve done his job adequately.” 

_oh no zanes fucked_

_fuckkk zane shes mad ur done_

“Now, he’s given me no choice but to reassert my authority,” Alexis ground out, her jaw clenching, arms crossing over her chest. “Let’s go.” 

Her shoulder opened the door, heels clicking on the wooden floor, the camera angle switching to show Alexis walking in the room, Zane still not shown. The room was brightly lit, the camera panning to show different pieces of furniture that Bastion had never seen before, chests and wardrobes pressed up against one wall, sets of collars and leashes hanging on hooks, a glass cabinet full of dildos and plugs making him swallow, breathing heavily. 

“Don’t you look pretty for the camera,” Alexis said, standing in the middle of the room, looking down her nose with hands on her hips. “How long have you been here, Zaney? Three, four hours?” 

A whine was the only response. 

Bastion desperately wanted to see what had Alexis’s eyes brimming with delight. 

“Four hours, maybe six—I don’t know.” Alexis walked over to a small table, various toys on it unknown to Bastion “Looks like you’ve had a fun time—fucking slut leaking all over yourself like that.” 

More whining, a faint buzzing sound and rustling, like someone was struggling. 

“You don’t need to keep the audience waiting anymore, Chumley,” Alexis said, holding up a thin steel rod, turning it over in her fingers. “You can go ahead and show them the mess my boy’s made of himself.” 

Chumley, presumably the cameraman, obeyed the order—honestly how could he not with how she’d said it—and Bastion’s legs buckled, his back sliding down the wall until he was on the floor. 

Zane was laying on a table, bound, blindfolded, a ball gag in his mouth, the straps digging into his cheeks, dried saliva on the corners of his mouth, his dark blue bangs sticking to his forehead. He was restrained at his elbows and ankles, above his elbows and knees, chest flushed, heaving—how had Bastion not noticed his pierced nipples last night?—nipple rings connected by a thin silver chain. His stomach was taught, shining with semen below his navel, some dried, some freshly leaked from the tip of Zane’s cock, swollen and nearly purple, metal cock ring around the base. The camera zoomed in to the large plug peeking out from between Zane’s cheeks, vibrating wildly. Hours. Hours he’d been there, Alexis had said. 

That had to be the best kind of torture. 

Alexis perched on the edge of the table, facing Zane’s legs, smoothing her dress over her thighs. “I’m going to take that gag out of your mouth. If you say a word you will make things worse for yourself.” 

Twisting her back, Alexis reached a gloved hand to touch the clasp holding the gag in Zane’s mouth, the straps releasing. She removed the ball from his mouth, dropping it on the floor. “Do you understand why you’re being punished, slut?” 

Zane didn’t answer, lip between his teeth, chest rising and falling slightly faster. 

Alexis rolled her eyes, sighing, curling a manicured finger around the chain on Zane’s chest, yanking upwards. A cry of pain, his back arching before slamming back down on the table, a drop of pre-come leaking on to his stomach. “You know to answer direct questions. I don’t have to completely retrain you, do I?” 

“N-no!” 

Alexis, once again looking exasperated, yanked. “No what?” 

“No ma’am!” Zane’s voice was thick, not used in several hours, desperate and going straight to Bastion’s cock. 

He was jealous. He wanted to sound like that, be at the mercy of someone else like that. 

“That’s better.” She released the chain. “I’m going to ask again: Do you know why you’re being punished?” 

_punish me miss alexis!!!_

_make him regret being a fuckin slut_

_i hope he liked jadens ass last night bc alexis wont let him fuck her for months now_

“Yes ma’am,” the response was weak, ashamed, nothing like the suave, strong and silent man that from last night. 

“Go on.” 

“I—I didn’t ask before I,” he licked his lips, swallowing hard. A shuddering breath, a choked sob. His voice rose, verging on hysteria. “Please, Lexi, I’m sorry, I—” 

Rage burned in Alexis’s eyes. She stood up, dress whirling around her thighs, hand gripping on to Zane’s chin, fingers digging in painfully, the other hand yanking the chain. “You have lost every bit of your manners, haven’t you? You stick your dick in someone’s ass and you suddenly think you call the fucking shots.” 

She brought her face down to his ear, the camera unable to pick up the words. Whatever she’d said, it elicited another whine, his shoulders shaking in the slightest. Bastion burned with curiosity, desperate to know. 

“I’m going to take off the restraints.” Alexis stood straight, looking into the camera. “Do not move until I tell you to.” 

A weak nod in response. 

The restraints had left raw red marks on his arms and legs, much darker than the one’s from the chains Chazz had been in. Alexis raked her nails over the redness on his left arm, up over his shoulder, brushing along his cheek, tangling her hand in the dark hair. He leaned into the touch, bottom lip wobbling as if he wanted to disobey and speak again. 

“Get up,” she ordered, pulling him upright by his hair, not waiting for him to catch his balance before she was dragging him on shaking legs, bent over at the waist to mitigate the pain in his scalp. 

The camera followed them as Alexis led him to an X-shaped piece of furniture, restraints dangling off of each piece of polished wood. Letting go of his hair, Alexis planted her hand firmly between his shoulder blades and forced his chest against the intersection, his arms lifting without being told so she could secure his arms above his head, standing on her tiptoes. Reaching between his chest and the wood for the chain, she roughly pulled it upward, ignoring the sounds of discomfort, attaching it to a hook that protruded from the wall. Not bothering to secure his ankles, Alexis walked over to one of the chests, bending at the waist, the camera giving the audience a tantalizing peak at the curve of her ass as she rummaged through the toys, bringing out a heavy wooden paddle, holes bored into it every half inch or so. 

Her fingers stroked the wood as she stood back up, tossing her braid over her shoulder, wisps of golden-blonde falling around her cheeks. “Last night. Do you remember how long the performance was, boy?” 

Zane did not forget his manners this time. “No, ma’am.” 

“Sixty-two minutes,” Alexis said. “Sixty-two minutes I had to ponder why you didn’t bother to ask permission to participate. I would have allowed it—I know you’re a slut, that you’re a slave to your fucking cock, that before me you were whoring yourself out to anyone that would put a hand around your throat and call you names.” 

Bastion whimpered at the acidity of her words, stuffing two fingers into his mouth and biting down to keep any more sounds from spilling out. His cock begged to be touched, but Bastion didn’t dare think of diverting any attention from Alexis, who was walking back over to Zane, paddle clenched in her fist. 

“It was shameful the things you did to get your release,” Alexis’s voice was low, menacing. “The girls at the sorority houses would use you as part of their hazing rites, tie you up and take turns using that pretty face, keeping you on edge for hours as each one of them stuffed all kinds of things in your ass.” 

Zane hung his head, his shoulders shaking, fists clenching and unclenching, soft sobs a backdrop to her words. 

“Your fraternity brothers put their cigarettes out on you,” Alexis continued. “I remember being at a bar, walking out to find you curled up out front, your arm looking like hell. I was so concerned for you Zaney, thought they’d been hurting you. Turns out you liked it, you liked it so fucking much you came in your fucking pants like a teenager.” 

_painslut_

_put some out on him miss alexis!!!_

_zane shuld of been gangbanged insted of jess lol_

“And then I took over, gave you everything you needed, everything you could ever want.” Alexis was weighing the paddle in her hands. “In return, you follow my orders. One of those is to always ask before playing with others. For sixty-two minutes I had to wonder if I wasn’t enough for you anymore, but then I saw you couldn’t even come without the threat of being hurt.” 

Bastion remembered Aster saying something about whipping him last night, how Alexis had trained him not to come. He didn’t quite understand it then, but now as he sat on the bathroom floor with his fingers in his mouth everything clicked into place. Zane couldn’t get off without pain, and from the anger in Alexis’s voice, she was going to give it to him. 

“I’m going to remind you who hurts you the way you like it.” Alexis smiled, not genuine and bubbly like Jaden, but menacingly, aroused by thought of inflicting pain. “Do you know how long you fucked Jaden?” 

“N-no, ma’am,” Zane whispered. 

“Eighteen minutes,” Alexis said. “We’re going to round up to twenty because I’m not in a generous mood. If you were a good boy and remembered your manners I would’ve rounded down to fifteen.” 

She raised the paddle, and Bastion held his breath. 

“Count,” the order came. 

Alexis wound up and brought the wood down on Zane’s left ass cheek, the holes making a whistling sound before the slap. Bastion jumped at the force, afraid she’d genuinely hurt him until a moan thick with pleasure came from him, the word “one” choked out through a sob. 

One soon became five, and Bastion’s hand left his mouth to rest on his erection, palming it through his pants, not bothering to cover his heavy breathing. Each spank made him jump, bucking the slightest bit into his hand, Zane’s skin getting redder and redder as Alexis approached ten. Sweat rolled down his back, his legs barely supporting his weight, the vibrating plug inside him making his body fight to find the balance between pain and pleasure—though if there was any truth to what Alexis had said earlier, that line was one in the same for Zane. 

“Ah, twelve!” Zane choked out, voice broken, the camera focusing on the tears dripping from behind the blindfold. His hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck, his lip bleeding from where he’d chewed a hole into it. “Thank you, My Angel!” 

Alexis pulled back on what would be the thirteenth swing, her eyes softening just a bit. “Look at you being all sweet. You’re not getting out of this, Zaney.” 

“I-I know,” Zane said, breathless. “I just—just—” 

“Take your punishment and I’ll reward you,” Alexis interrupted. “You’re starting to remember your place, but I’m going to drive the lesson home so you never forget again.” 

“Y-yes ma’am.” 

“What number are we on?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“Good. If you didn’t remember, I was going to start over.” 

Zane was soon screaming again, and Bastion had to put his fingers back into his mouth, wanting to mirror the sounds he was hearing. Fifteen, eighteen strikes and he was wailing, the restraints the only thing holding him up, his knees buckling. Alexis adjusted her stance and swing for the final two strikes, Zane moaning out the number “twenty” through tears.

_his ass looks so good miss alexis!!_

_punish him more maam_

_cant wait 2 see his face_

Alexis tossed the paddle off-screen, no noise indicating where it fell meaning someone caught it before it hit the floor. Standing behind Zane, she dug her nails into the heated, red flesh, kissing his shoulder, a gentle contradiction to the pained whine coming from him. Her hand trailed up his back, his muscles relaxing at the touch, soon untying the blindfold, dropping the black cloth to the floor. 

Once again her hand was in his hair, pulling his head back so she could look in his eyes, his back bowed. “That’s enough of a punishment for now. Since you behaved yourself, I’ll reward you.” 

“T-thank you, Miss Alexis.” Zane’s eyes were wet, unfocused, a delirious smile on his face. 

“You pick. Tell me what you want, what you want me to do to you.” 

Zane rattled out a breath, his eyes sliding shut, bloody lip once again between his teeth. “Uh—earlier, when you were talking about how the f-frat boys—do that, please. Please.” 

Alexis carded her fingers through his bangs, the sweaty hair sticking up at all angles. “God, you’re disgusting—wanting me to burn you like that for a reward. I had all the electrical equipment set up for you, Zaney. You’re going to make me waste all that time getting ready for a few cigarette burns?” 

Zane didn’t respond, and Bastion watched as Alexis walked off-screen, returning a moment later with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, one caught between her lips, smoke curling around her head as she walked. 

Bastion had never—what kind of person liked being burned? He was still inebriated, his better judgment that this was a bit too far and he should not be watching this, or that he should not be reaching between his legs to rub himself, his cock insistent despite the questionable nature of the performance. His knowledge of brain chemistry, the intersection of pain and pleasure and endorphins and such—it didn’t encompass such intense pain, certainly at some point the pain wasn’t buffered by happy chemicals. 

Happy chemicals. He really was drunk if he wasn’t using the technical terms. 

The camera focused on Alexis taking a drag, the lit end glowing orange, gray ash flaking off. Zane looked over his shoulder, mouth open, breathing heavily, dark blue eyes brimming with anticipation, hungrily watching the smoke blow out of her mouth. 

Alexis stepped close to Zane, holding the cigarette near his skin, not quite making contact, yet close enough for him to feel the heat, to squirm in anticipation. “Be sure to thank Jesse after this—oh, and you owe him a new pack of cigarettes.” 

The cigarette pressed into the center of his back, and Bastion had to rethink everything he knew about brain chemistry. 

“Ah—fuck!” Zane screamed, his arms shaking from the strain of supporting his weight. The camera switched to a side view, Zane’s cock twitching against his stomach, pre-come erupting from the head of his cock as Alexis twisted the cigarette into his spine, the skin puckering in a perfectly round shape. “Fuck—th-thank you, My Angel!”

Alexis dropped the cigarette butt onto the floor, kicking it away from them. She dragged her nails over the fresh burn mark, Zane swearing and crying out. “You’re throwing that around a lot tonight, I’m starting to think it’s losing its meaning.” 

“No ma’am, I promise—” 

“I know, I know—I’m kidding,” Alexis laughed, pulling out another cigarette to light it. “How about I turn you around. I want to see your pretty face as I make you scream.” 

Alexis was halfway through the second cigarette by the time she’d taken off the restraints and then secured again. Bastion had to take a moment to be impressed by the speed at which she was able to complete the task one-handed, though he was soon taking a moment to appraise how painful Zane’s erection looked, much darker than when he’d first seen it on screen. The pain—the paddling, the burning, the way Alexis had been shaming and degrading him, that was what had made him truly unravel. 

Bastion maintained that he would not want cigarettes burned on him, but watching Zane enjoy it—in a strange way, it only made Bastion want Alexis to take the cigarette she was holding between her fingers and dig it into his sternum.

“Look at you—it seems like you should be begging me to stop.” Alexis pressed her body against Zane’s side, her leg tangling around his, knee sliding up to nudge at his cock, a pained whine coming from him at the sensation. “You love it, you gross little boy—tell me what you are.” 

“Your—your slut, ma’am—your painslut—fuck!” he screamed again, his head falling backward, the burn on his hip making his cock twitch, his stomach muscles flexing, knees shaking. 

“That’s right.” Alexis flicked the butt over her shoulder. “My slut, all mine—don’t you fucking forget that.” 

A third burn, high up on his left pectoral, a half inch below the collarbone, more screams. 

“You enjoying your reward, bitch?” Alexis’s teeth nipped at Zane’s jaw, a fourth unlit cigarette in her hand. “I have three more for you—beg me, you fucking slut—beg me to hurt you, beg me to leave you scarred and crying. Beg. Me.” 

“Please! Please, My Angel,” Zane sobbed, staring into Alexis’s eyes, the smoke stinging his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek as he blinked. “I need it—please, I need it—needed you all day, missed you—hurt me, please!” 

“Good boy.” Alexis blew a puff of smoke in his face. Then a kiss on his flushed, splotchy cheek, eyelashes brushing against his skin. “I missed you too.” 

A fourth burn, right in the middle of his chest. Screams, swearing. Bastion watched the bliss cross Zane’s face and didn’t feel bad for unzipping his pants. 

The fifth on the left side of his ribcage, a raspy _thank you, My Angel_. Tears, snot, dripping from his nose, brushed away with the back of her hand. Bastion took his cock in his hand, struggling to keep quiet because the sound would no doubt be amplified by the glorified echo chamber that was the bathroom. 

Number six on his other hip. Alexis had dropped her leg from where it had been teasing Zane’s cock to give the camera a full view. Zane seemed to have lost the ability to scream, the only noise he made a desperate whine, another thankful utterance, his eyes halfway shut and mouth hanging open. Wrecked. 

Bastion felt the jealousy again. He didn’t want the burns, but—well if it got him looking like that, he might be willing to give it a try. 

One final burn, mirroring the one she’d put under his right collarbone. A whimper. His head fell back, chest heaving, nothing but his labored breaths coming through the headphones. 

“Zane, are you still with me?” Alexis’s voice was soft, gentle, nothing like the dominating tone from a moment ago. Zane lifted his head up, looking down at her and nodding faintly, nuzzling in to the hand that was now on his cheek. “I’m going to release your arms.” 

His arms were like jelly, slapping against his sides as Alexis loosed the restraints, and Bastion was afraid that his legs would collapse if Alexis didn’t put an arm around his back to support him. Bastion watched, thumbing the tip of his cock through the underwear, feeling the wetness of the material, speculating on what this intense arousal at such masochism said about him, as the camera followed their steps toward a bed on the opposite side of the room that hadn’t previously been shown. 

“Bend over, hands on the bed.” Alexis’s tone was no longer gentle, and Bastion felt the wet spot on his underwear grow bigger. Zane complied, his arms shaking, back tensing as Alexis ran her hand down his skin, over his still-red bottom, fingers grasping around the end of the vibrating plug, pulling it out swiftly, his rim stretching around the thickest part, lubricant dripping out of the slightly-gaping hole. Alexis dropped the plug on the bed. “Time for phase two of your punishment.” 

Zane whined, and Bastion wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the only sound he was capable of making. 

Alexis was walking over to the same chest where she’d gotten the paddle, and Bastion pulled his cock out through the slit in his boxers, the sensation of his palm wrapping around his shaft making him jerk his head back, thumping against the bathroom wall. He focused back on his phone to see her stepping into a harness, hiking her dress up around her waist, exposing an ass that rivaled Jaden’s. He could hear the fastenings of the harness clicking into place. Her dress fell down around her legs as she walked back to Zane, a bulge in the front of her dress, and Bastion felt like he was about to get educated about yet another form of pleasure. 

Sitting down on the bed, Alexis leaned against the headboard, beckoning to Zane to come toward her. He crawled in between her spread legs, straddling her lap, looking down, expectant. 

“You remember how you came last night?” Alexis pressed a kiss to the burn on the center of his chest, simultaneously tugging on the chain. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped, his hands gripping onto her shoulders as she nipped at the burn. 

“How was that?” 

“In—inside Jaden—oh fuck.” 

“And what are the rules about coming inside, Zane?” A harsher tug on the chain accompanied the question. 

“I have to,” Zane caught his breath as the assault on his chest continued. “If I c-come inside someone, I have to—have to—fuck!” 

“You have to what?” 

“Have to—have to eat it out of them,” Zane finished. 

Bastion desperately wished that Zane had complied with that rule. Watching the blue-haired man eat Jaden out, come covering his face as he tongue-fucked the brunette would have made him blow in ten seconds. 

“And did you?” Alexis’s hands let go of the chain and rested on his hips, her thumbs stroking his hipbones, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“That’s right—you already had broken my rules, so what was one more, right?” Alexis laughed joylessly, eyes narrowing at Zane’s whispered apology. “You don’t follow the rules for coming, you don’t get to enjoy coming.” 

Bastion had no idea what that meant. He’d always thoroughly enjoyed the orgasms he’d had, seemed like the best form of punishment would be to not let Zane come at all. 

Alexis’s right hand left Zane’s hip to pull up the hem of her dress up around her waist, and Bastion saw the dildo attached to the harness, curved toward her stomach like a real cock, the straps around her thighs not hiding her arousal, her pussy shining in the light of the room. Now Bastion Misawa had never seen a woman’s genitals outside of biology class, where he had no time to think of what it would be like to bury his face between her legs or slide his cock along her slit, begging her to let him slide in, and he had to jerk his hand away so he could keep watching. 

“You know what to do,” Alexis ordered, watching as Zane reached between her legs to grasp the cock, aligning it with his lubricated, stretched hole. “For those of you who don’t know—good boy, now ride me—cock rings don’t mean a man can’t climax, just means it takes longer, and that it’s painful, very painful.” 

The camera focused on Zane’s bouncing on the dildo, its curve hitting his prostate on each downward thrust, a steady stream of pre-come pouring out of his tip. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth grinding together, his moans pained, nothing like the unadulterated pleasure Bastion had heard when he was being burned or spanked. 

Alexis’s index finger touched the tip of his cock, his entire body convulsing, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “You were tied up so long, baby, you must be close.” 

“Yes, yes ma’am,” sweat dripped down his nose, his cheeks, his thighs trembled, and his stomach tensed with each brush against his prostate, skin looking feverish and splotchy. Bastion mimicked the gentle brushes of Alexis’s fingertips over the head of his own cock, feeling his own pre-come drip down the shaft, not nearly as much as with Zane, but then again he wasn’t backed up like the blue-haired man. 

“Does it hurt?” Alexis wrapped her hand around his cock loosely, her hand becoming slick as he dripped onto her. 

“A bit—yes ma’am,” Zane whimpered, tears of overstimulation dripping from his eyes and off his chin onto Alexis’s golden hair. 

“Feels good though—you like it when I’m mean, make you suffer, make you work for it—god you look so good, riding my fucking cock.” Alexis bucked her hips upward, making Zane yelp and throw his head back. “You ride me until you come, I wanna see you scream in pain—the cock ring is going to make it hurt.” 

“Yes ma’am—I’m, I’m gonna come soon, can I—can I come My Angel?” Zane asked, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he awaited permission. 

“Yeah, come for me, I want to hear you—be loud for me, want people outside the studio to hear you,” Alexis ordered, smiling as Zane whined at her words. 

Bastion jumped at the wailing from Zane, who finally came, painfully, shaking, clinging to Alexis’s shoulders as he dripped onto her dress. Her hands stroked along his sides, up his back, mumbling in his ear, kissing his neck, chants of _good boy, Zane, you’re so good_ picked up by the cameras. Bastion, god he was so jealous—he wanted to hear those words in his ear, but for now he’d settle for fucking his fist, closing his eyes, and imagining. 

“I wanna,” Zane lifted his head from her shoulder, looking into her eyes. “Please, My Angel, let me make you come, too.” 

“What makes you think you’ve earned the right to touch me?” 

Bastion bit his lip to stifle his frustrated moan. He wanted, desperately wanted to watch Zane make her come, preferably with his mouth, but Alexis—god, it was like Alexis was dragging things out to personally spite him, make him work for his own orgasm. Of course that was ridiculous, but in his drunk state of mind he wanted to pout and kick his feet and tell Zane to make Alexis feel good. 

“Please, please, let me—I want to taste you,” Zane whispered, eyes pleading, but Alexis didn’t look convinced. “Make you feel good, please—I haven’t, I haven’t—please Lex,” 

“I haven’t allowed you to eat my pussy in a few weeks, have I?” Alexis’s thumbs dragged over his hipbones, a taunting smile on her face. “Just been making you watch as I make myself feel good.” 

“Please, how can I earn it?” Zane’s tongue wet his bottom lip, his eyes looking like they were about to spill over with tears. 

“Cute, so cute. How about you clean me up and I’ll decide if you deserve a taste,” Alexis watched as Zane lifted himself off of the dildo, backing up and dropping his head down to lap at the stain on her bodice. “Not there, baby—oh, don’t worry you’ll get in trouble for that later. Clean my boots—don’t worry about the bottom, just the sides where some cigarette ash got on them,” 

Alexis planted her feet on the bed, knees up in the air, the camera getting a shot of the shiny pink as her pussy lips spread. Zane crawled backwards, looking longingly between her legs, and Bastion thought he was about to disobey and dive right in—not like Bastion would be able to resist if he were in the same position, but he was going to start screaming if Zane didn’t hurry up and start licking her boots. 

There wasn’t any cigarette ash that Bastion could see, but Zane licked languidly up the side, saliva glistening on the leather. Over the buckles, around the ankle, wetting the laces—Bastion shouldn’t have found it so arousing, but he could feel his stomach tensing, a prelude to his own orgasm as Zane switched to the other boot, giving it the same attention as the first. Alexis twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, watching with lusty eyes as his tongue worked over the leather. 

“Good boy,” Alexis said, spreading her legs, her boot moving away from Zane’s tongue. “Good boy, come here, you’ve earned it.” 

Zane didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Ah!” Alexis’s head snapped back against the wall as his mouth descended on her, the camera zooming in to watch his tongue slide over her lips, circling around her clit, not concealing his pleasure at being able to put his mouth on her. Hands slid into his hair, pulling back his bangs, giving the camera a clearer shot. “Ah, fuck—god, I forgot how good you are.” 

His lips encircled her clit, sucking in his cheeks, wet sounds joining her moans as he brought her closer to orgasm. Fingers trailed down her inner thigh, two pushing inside her, eliciting a gasp as he pushed in and out. What Bastion wouldn’t give to feel her pussy around his fingers, feel her, tight and wet— 

“Fuck!” he groaned, probably too loud considering he was in a bathroom, spilling into his hand, heat and pleasure coursing through him, Alexis’s breathy moans and gasps a perfect backdrop to his release. 

“God—god, Zane.” Alexis’s legs snapped around his neck, the heels of her boots digging into his back, her fingers tightening in his hair, eyes squeezing shut and face flushing as she bucked her hips against his face. “Fuck—I can tell how much you—ah, right there—how much you missed this.” 

Zane’s moan of agreement made her tense, head lolling to the side. The camera couldn’t see much now, the grip of her thighs around his neck covering everything but the thrusts of his fingers. Bastion caught his breath as Alexis’s was starting to pick up, her chest flushing and heaving, her thighs flexing and eyes sliding shut as she thrust her hips up into his face. 

“Shit, god—good boy, Zane, good boy baby,” she moaned, her voice higher, cheeks bright pink, heels digging even deeper into his back, shuddering through her orgasm, nearly ripping his hair out with the tightness of her fists. Her legs slid off of his back and onto the bed, her body lax. “Come here, dragon—kiss me, I want to taste myself on you,” 

Zane’s mouth glistened with her juices as he surged forward to press his lips against hers, their tongues tangling, more wet sounds, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Bastion zipped up his pants, watching as they pulled away, her hand pulling him down to lay on her chest, her leg hooked around his waist. 

“Alright, I’m tired,” Alexis laughed, out of character, as she stroked through Zane’s sweaty hair. “Cut the cameras off so Zane can sleep. Hope everyone enjoyed, we’ll see you in a couple days.” 

Fade to the logo. Bastion looked down to his crotch, stained with semen, and prayed that his shirt would be able to cover it. 

A text message popped up, from Tanya, asking where he was and if he was alright, that last call would be in a few minutes. 

He stood up and shoved his headphones back in his pocket, pulling the hem of his shirt down. Maybe he could get one last drink in before Camula closed up the bar. A drink after an orgasm had to be spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i did use the portuguese names for amazoness swordswoman and amazonness paladin for tanya's friends bc its my story and i'll use duel monsters cards if i want to 
> 
> im a fucking sucker for royalshipping yall in my head alexis and zane are married and have a beautiful life together as a researcher and pro duelist trophy husband 
> 
> see yall for the next round of Cherry's Sin :) 
> 
> I’m excited to announce that I’m open for [commissions!](https://spellcastersjudgement.tumblr.com/post/174622005229/hey-yall-horrible-puns-and-cheesy-banner-aside) I also have a [Ko-Fi!](https://ko-fi.com/spellcastersjudgement) Thank you for donating/commissioning!


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